At A Distance
by ashestoashesanddusttodust
Summary: It was so small that it was almost unremarkable to those without the proper vision to notice it.
1. Chapter 1

**At A Distance  
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**A Word**: Avengerkink prompt asking how Natasha got her arrow necklace in the Winter Soldier movie.

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She paints herself with dyes and paint and clothing. Altering her body language, and actions to fit the new canvas that she has become for her mission. Using it all as a shield and mask to obtain her goals. Her hair is platinum blonde, and her skin is a fake tan that borders on being too orange. Her eyebrows are a suggestion, and her face feels like it'll crack under the weight of makeup if she moves it too much.

Natasha is wearing a cocktail dress and has a sequined clutch even though it's still early morning and no cocktail parties are planned for the day. She has to remind herself to wobble a little in the gladiator style stilettos she's wearing, and grasp at the grinning man, who's managed to blackmail enough high ranking military officials to get his hands on something really dangerous, for support as they enter a high end jewelry shop that they need to be buzzed into.

A carefully blank faced woman shows them a set of delicate jewelry that's obscenely expensive given how small they are. They're all charms in a brilliant gold, but the price tag has more to do with the supposed artist whose name is attached to the minimalist pieces than anything else. They're tiny and quite frankly boring, but she acts impressed as the man she's attached to goes on and on about artistic merit.

The tiny arrow is almost lost on the pillow next to the rounder pieces, and she has to lean forward to get a better look at it.

"Do you like that?" The man asks. His supporting arm going low around her waist, hand resting casually at the junction where her dress ends and her skin starts. Natasha can't wait to break every gleaming tooth in his mouth even as she simpers and bats her enhanced eyelashes. "Good," he snaps his finger at the unimpressed employee. "Let's see that one on a chain then."

It's a risk, a stupid and unnecessary one. There never should be anything attaching Natasha to the painted masks she wears, and this necklace will be an attachment. She knows it even as large hands bordering on the wrong side of uncareful make a show out of fixing the necklace in place.

Melinda's smiles are vapid and carefully measured, and not even close to the smile that Natasha wants to make as she looks at the necklace around her throat in a mirror.

"I like it," the man says as his thick fingers adjust the chain around her neck. Thumb stroking down to the edge of her top and pushing just slightly below it. His eyes are fixed much lower than her neck. "Only someone up close can truly appreciate how it looks on you. It's," his voice is low and comes close to disgusting her, "such an intimate piece for lovers to share."

Someone like himself. Everything is heavily implied in his voice and she paints an adoring smile onto her face to keep from speaking. He doesn't need her words anyway. He's very fond of talking for them both, and loves nothing more than to look at her.

"I'll take it," the man pulls his attention away and addresses the woman who is carefully ignoring them both. His smile is smug as reaches for the wad of cash he's been carrying around all day. Flipping through the bills in a way that looks practiced and shows off how very much is still left in the end.

Natasha fawns over him as he pays and thinks about his words. They are true for the most part. Most people will need to be in touching distance to notice the little necklace, and it can only be shared with people close to her. Friends or lovers.

There is one man though that has a pair of amazing eyes -eyes that see better at a distance, and see right through all her masks up close- that will see the necklace no matter how far away he is. For him, she will wear it long after the waste of space leading her around by the waist is rotting in a cell or a shallow grave.

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	2. Chapter 2

**At A Distance  
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**A Word**: I will not lie, I wrote this end first.

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Clint's finger ghosts over the arrow. Barely touching it and tickling her skin as he _stares_ almost transfixed down at her neck. He eventually blinks and looks up at her, a foolish looking grin stretching across his face, "So, does this mean I have to get a black widow tattooed on my ass?"

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End file.
